To the Moon and Back
Being a senior really is something. Whenever you see two people in any corner of the campus, and one of them is asking the other “what are you gonna do”, that’s us. This question does not require any extensions like ‘tonight’, ‘tomorrow’, or on the ‘weekend’, because both of the “senior” parties automatically know that what is meant is “next year”. In contrast to the question itself, the answers vary between a range of possibilities. Maybe that’s what actually scares us: The multiplicity of choices; because, we are all in fear of choosing the wrong one.
In the first year, post-graduation period is a joke, and a freshman could even have dreams of becoming an astronaut. Let us keep focused on the same individual, and continue our examination: In the second year, he still believes he is going to the moon, but does not mind much, being told that he won’t fly the spaceship. In the third-year, he slowly realizes the fact that he is not going to the moon and reluctantly accepts commanding the space program from the ground. The senior student, on the other hand, is rather a simple person: “Do you have a telescope?” Tyler Durden puts it this way, much more pessimistically: “We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars. But we won’t. We’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.”
At least we still feel like we’re going to be something special. The ‘load of expectancy’ is the key term here, which is placed heavily on our shoulders either by relatives, or by ourselves. Although this may look like the case, no one leaves out the smallest glimmer of hope about the future. And let me tell you something: That piece of hope is actually huge, but we don’t want to show it off. Because, we’re all “the one”, remember?

Efe Peker (POLS/IV)